Clepsydra
by WriterKos
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose and time is running out. All the body pieces may never be found. Do you know what hardcore profiling is? A Joy Buchanan story. Written for the Lizzie Borden Challenge and the Casefile challenge
1. A visit from the past

**_Title: Clepsydra_**  
**_Author: WriterKos_**  
**_Rating: FR15_**  
**_Parings: McGee/OFC_**  
**_Characters: McGee, OC, the whole Gang from NCIS._**  
**_Genres: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, violence_**  
**_Summary: A serial killer is on the loose and time is running out. All the body pieces may never be found. Do you know what hardcore profiling is? A Joy Buchanan story._**

**_Written for the Lizzie Borden Challenge and the Casefile challenge_**

a/n 1: We're going back to Joy's first year working with Gibbs team. Things are a little bit shaky, and the little monster of past cases rear its ugly head for the first time. This story is set after Honor Bound but before Connecting the Dots. So Gibbs team know only Hope, no one else of the Buchanan Clan.

a/n 2: Ohhh I'm writing about an ax murderer for Lizzie Borden case. So be ready for some gore.

* * *

Clepsydra

n. pl. clep•sy•dras or clep•sy•drae  
An ancient device that measured time by marking the regulated flow of water through a small opening. Also called water glass.

**_Chapter 1: A Visit from the Past_**

**_"God sends meat and the devil sends cooks." Thomas Deloney_**

Tony stretches his long legs under his desk, trying to dispel the discomfort of sitting several hours in the same position while typing his report. He uses his hand to massage the muscles on his neck, as he rolls his head around hearing the crack of the bones trying to align themselves..

"Ouch, that must have hurt," comments Ziva.

"Nah... What hurts the most is my ass, not my neck."

They were enjoying one of those brief respites between cases, in which they were submerged in paperwork. Requisition forms, casefile reports, car request forms, etc etc.

It was a bureaucracy nightmare, but that's part of working for a government agency: you have to explain every single shot fired, every expense detailed, copying your Boss, your Boss's boss, and the Boss' accountant.

Duh.

The elevator dings, and Tony takes the chance to people watch, as Gibbs is not in the bullpen, as he was visiting their illustrious Goth Caff-Pow addicted forensic scientist. McGee was doing something for the director at MTAC and Buchanan was...

"Where did Buchanan go?" Tony couldn't remember where did she go.

"She went to talk to Balboa team, she had written a profile for their latest case and they requested some explanations on it," says Ziva, not lifting her eyes from her screen.

A man walks up to Ziva's side, looking at her uncertain, before looking at the other tables as if he's searching for someone. Ziva glances at him, frowning at the strange figure he is, with his Stetson hat and sun-burnt face, his eyes almost disappearing behind the flaps on his eyes. His unshaved look hid a severe case of acne, which left his cheek full of holes that no cream on earth could fix.

His jacket had seen better days, and it must have been at some day in the past brown. Now it was just a strange dirty color due to many washings. His jeans were simply old. No other word could describe it.

On top of all that, in order to complete his attire, his alligator boots were perfectly shining, as if they were the only thing that he took a care to look after on his looks.

Tony exchanges a look with Ziva, before standing up to greet this stranger, who is now studying Tony with untrusting eyes, his mouth turned in a sour line. Tony immediately associated his glare with Clint Eastwood's glare, right before he drew his gun and shot down the bad guy in those Wild West movies.

"May I help you?"

The strange man glanced briefly at Tony, immediately dismissing him after the first seconds his eyes slid over his crispy white shirt, impeccable Zegna trousers matching his equally dashing Zegna suit and muttered, "No, kid. You ain't who I came for."

Ziva almost smiled at the crushed look on Tony's face, before approaching him,

"Maybe you could tell us who you are looking for, it would be easier for us to fetch him, Mister..." She stops, silently asking him to give her a name, any name.

She looks at the visitor's badge hanging from the lapel of his old jacket, and she asks herself why security has left such strange man up unescorted.

The man turns to glare at her, measuring her up and down, and his lips turn into a sneer, "Don't think ya can be of any help either, Missus."

Ziva glares at him, feeling her temper starting to boil, "Listen, sir, you-"

"Detective Cole."

The grouchy man turns and stares at Joy walking by the corridor towards the agents with a serious face, greeting her with a nod of his head and respectfully taking his hat from his head, twisting it in his hand.

"Agent Buchanan, I'm surprised that you still remember my name. Thanks for letting me up."

"You know him?" Tony points to the man, leaning back as if trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the surly grouch.

"Yes, DiNozzo. I know him. I'll handle it," Joy approaches the man and offers a hand to shake, which he firmly squeezes bringing a frown of pain to her face, but she doesn't let go squeezing as hard as he is. He smirks, and lets go of her hand, grinning lightly when he sees her opening and closing her hand trying to regain feeling on it.

She smiles a little self conscious, "We puked at the same crime scene. That's not something one forgets."

The man surprisingly starts to chuckle, "That's true. Good to see you alive and kicking. I have been told that you were dead."

Joy grimaces at his comment, at the same time that Gibbs arrives from his visit to Abby's Labby, and stares at the stranger with a frown, glaring from one to the other.

"Who's that?"

Gibbs immediately notices that she is not comfortable with this strange man's visit.

"This is Detective Raymond Cole, from the New Iberia Police department in Louisiana," the surly man nods, offering his hand to Gibbs, and doing the same squeezing trick with him. Gibbs just grins and squeezes back, until he notices Detective Cole twitch in pain, only then releasing his hand.

Joy tries not to grin, as she notices Cole opening and closing his hand, and looking at the smirking Gibbs with respect. "My boss, Special Agent Gibbs," she says, as a matter of introduction.

"You have a firm hand shake, Mr. Gibbs. I admire that in a man," he nods, before looking again at Joy, "or in a woman. I'm glad you're not dead, ma'am."

"Rumors of my death have been highly exaggerated. But you're very far away from your haunting grounds. What are you doing so far north?"

"Bird migration, I guess."

She smiles faintly, but it doesn't lasts, "You're not a bird..." she studies his face, noting how he studies her with the same reserve she does, "and you're not the type of man who does social calls. Why are you in DC?"

The man's face takes a very somber look, and Joy immediately tenses as she figures out why he came to the Capital.

"No."

"They've scr'w'd up, ma'am."

"No."

"I've been r'nning like a cat wit' bells on his tail, 'cause the people down in Lafayette hid from me what was happening and I've just found out when people started missing in my parish again."

"She's on death row, Cole"

"Not anymore. She's escaped."

Joy sighs out loud and turns her back to the detective, walking towards the tall windows and supporting her hands on the glass, "this is not happening this is not happening this is not happening."

"What's not happening? Who has escaped" Gibbs looks from the stranger who is staring daggers to his agent's back, and Joy, who is looking dejectedly through the window, lost in thought.

"I cann't tell ya, as..."

"He's my SAC and my direct supervisor." Joy mutters, and turns facing the detective, "he has the right to know."

"But I don't know him. And I'm not the kind of man who commits the same mistake twice. I don't trust him. So I ain't telling him an'thing 'till I'm sure you're coming back with me."

"No." Joy shakes her head, receiving an incredulous look from the detective.

"What? How can you say no? She's butchering again."

Joy bites her lower lip, glancing at Gibbs for a second before looking at Cole, "how did she escape?"

Cole spins his Stetson slowly in his hand, looking down at the agent with serious eyes, "She's a good actress. She pretended that she was dying of pain, and they decided to transfer her from Death Row to the infirmary. From there, she somehow convinced the doctor that she was almost dying, and when they were transferring her to a hospital she pulled a Houdini."

"God, I can't believe it."

"Pretty stupid, these prison folks. The worst is that they've tried to keep it under the cloth, trying to locate her without informing us, keeping us from the investigation."

Joy is silently fuming, panic and fury slowly boiling as she feels the walls closing around her, "Why weren't you informed? Why wasn't I informed of that?"

Cole shrugs, "I ain't informed 'cause is that silly Billy Rowlings that's leading the search teams, and he has hated me guts since Allie Merceux chose me 'ver him to go on a date back in '81. But they've tried to contact you, but they were told that you're dead."

"What?" Tony, Ziva and Joy say at the same time, and Cole nods, glancing at Gibbs who has folded his arms, trying to absorb the news.

"According to the FBI files they've checked, the whole LA BAU team is dead... including you, ma'am."

Joy's face becomes pale, as she realizes the enormity of the problem she has in her hands. She lifts huge round eyes to Gibbs, "They've haven't updated the files."

"No ma'am." Cole lifts his hand, and shows a thick folder with papers on it, "This is the info I could gather from the last missing people, all I could get before Billy came like a bulldog after meself, so I need you to look it over and do your thing like the last time.

Joy lowers her eyes to the offered folder, in Cole's firm hands, and she visibly shrinks, as if all the weight of the world is over her shoulders, and in no moment she makes any movement to take the file from Cole's.

"No." She finally says, her voice carrying a defeated tone.

"What?" This turn, Gibbs and Cole speak simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, but no. I'm not FBI anymore."

"But this is your thingie. You know this lunatic. She won't stop killing until someone stops her as you did the last time."

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" Cole's accent is becoming thicker, as fury starts to take control.

"You don't know what you are asking from me." Joy says in a low voice, almost in tears.

"I know exactly what I'm asking from you, ma'am. I'm asking you to do your job. These kids here, because she's going after some college kids this time, they will be dead in a few hours if you don't stop her." Cole's becoming desperate, but Joy shakes her head, impotent.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Since when did you become chicken?" The detective shouts, getting the attention of many people in the bullpen, who turn to stare the confrontation.

"This is not NCIS jurisdiction. I'm not working on these types of cases anymore. I'm sorry you've travelled all the way here just to waste your trip. But I can't take the case."

Cole stares at her, as if he can't believe what she is speaking to him, "So you won't help me save those kids.

"I'm NCIS now. Give me a case involving the Navy and I'll gladly take it, but I can't help you with this one. It's not NCIS jurisdiction. I'm sorry."

Cole glares at Joy, disappointment shining out of his face as he studies her up and down, before turning to look at Gibbs, showing all his contempt in his eyes, "I have to say, I'm mighty disappointed. I've never thought I would see the day that you would become a bureaucrat. Just like those suckers down in Laffayette."

He puts his hat back on his head, and leaves with hard steps, carrying the folder against his chest, "I'll take my leave, ma'am."

Joy sighs and looks sadly at the detective, "Cole, I'm sorry."

The detective stops, before turning around to glare at her, "No need to say sorry to me, ma'am. Just say sorry to the parents of the kids that will be butchered by this killer, just 'cause you were too comfortable in your comfy DC office and couldn't bother to come to Louisiana with me. Say sorry to them."


	2. Agreeing to disagree

_**Chapter 2: Agreeing to disagree**_

The departure of the Louisiana detective left a heavy air in the bullpen, as Gibbs, Tony and Ziva stared at Joy quite unbelieving of what they've just had witnessed, and the rest of the bullpen slowly went back to their work routine.

Gibbs frowns as he sees the dejected way Buchanan's shoulders were, and how her face was the pure definition of misery.

Yet still, she had brushed off the request of help from another officer, not even giving a glance at the file.

And that action was completely opposite to the normal workaholic attitude of the young agent who, since she had joined Gibbs' team, had worked nonstop, creating profiles not only for his team as well as for other NCIS teams as well.

He simply couldn't figure out why she would refuse to help, when it was plain obvious that her help was needed, and that she wanted to help.

She was acting almost as... she was forced to refuse help. But that's simply ridiculous.

Joy turns tortured eyes to Gibbs, and for a minute he is shocked with the profound despair in her eyes, but before he figures out the reason for it she blinks and looks to the floor, denying him any access to what is happening in her mind.

She sighs and walks in quick steps to her desk, sitting down and moving her mouse, looking for some drafts she made notes of a new profile for Balboa's team.

Yet she ignores the heave glare Gibbs is directing towards her, trying her best to ignore the shadow of a marine standing a few feet away from her silently demanding an explanation.

Tony and Ziva sit down, each looking at each other in worry, as they feel the tension creeping up as Gibbs becomes more and more irritated with the fact that his agent is - on purpose - ignoring him.

Finally, he can't take it anymore, "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"It didn't seem like nothing. It seemed like a request for help. Which you refused."

"Not NCIS jurisdiction, Boss. Now, if you don't mind, I have to finish this report." She spin her chair lightly, effectively turning her back to Gibbs, who glares at her back feeling his temper boiling, as he sees her starting to type a new report on the computer.

"This conversation is not over."

"I believe it is. There's nothing to talk about."

"I'm the one to decide that." Gibbs growls, feeling his patience long gone, "Buchanan, my office now."

She doesn't move from her seat, despite Gibbs' burning stare on her back. She keeps staring to her monitor, her hands resting on the keyboard, frozen over it.

"Buchanan, I gave you an order."

"One which I respectfully chose to disobey." She says in a low voice, looking at Gibbs from the reflection on her monitor.

Gibbs' patience is over, so he puts his hands heavily on her seat and spins it, forcing her to stare into his eyes.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"There's nothing to discuss." Her voice is shaking, but her eyes are firm into his, not showing any sign of backing down.

"I'm the one who decides that."

"Not on this case." She shakes her head, showing a tiredness that is confusing Gibbs, as apparently there's something going on that she's hiding from him.

And he is completely intent of finding it out.

"It's not NCIS jurisdiction." She says as if that justified her actions.

"People will die."

"People always die. Regardless of what you might do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gibbs is becoming baffled at each word that comes out Joy's mouth. It's as if she's trying to give him a message, that he can't simply grasp.

"Nothing." She visibly deflates, unable to make him understand.

At that moment McGee comes down the MTAC, and he freezes as he sees the standoff between Buchanan and Gibbs, as he is obviously pissed off and she is predictably stubborn on her ways.

"What's wrong?"

Gibbs turns to glare at McGee, "What's wrong? Your partner decided that she doesn't want to play in the sandbox, so she is completely disregarding an order of mine."

"Boss, please..." Joy says in a low voice, but he turns to her furious, still spitting mad at her.

"I gave you an order, and I expect you to obey it, no questions asked."

Gibbs sees when she glances at McGee, for a brief moment, throwing a desperate look at him showing how divided she is, before finally glancing back at Gibbs.

"I can't. Not in this case."

"You can't or you won't?"

Gibbs sees her eyes filling with tears, as she shakes her head resolute, "I can't."

"Boss?" McGee takes a step, eager to interfere, but Gibbs has made his mind.

"Sit down McGee," Gibbs growls, as Joy stands up and stays face to face to him, as he is glaring all the time at his recalcitrant agent.

"Boss?" McGee glances terrified at Joy, who shakes her head silencing him.

"Stay out of this McGee." She says in a low voice, before staring at Gibbs again.

"What's happening?"

"It's not your business, boss."

"It's my business if I want to make it."

"Not this time."

"I'm giving you an order."

"An order that I must disobey."

"Then I think that we must make a visit to the director."

Joy nods, and walks ramrod straight to the stairwell, not once looking back towards the team or Gibbs. Ziva and Tony lean back on their chairs, throwing nervous glances at Joy and Gibbs marching up to the Director's office, before looking at McGee who is following them with worried eyes.

For some reason, they have the impression that the young Buchanan has just kissed her job goodbye.


	3. Director's orders

**_Chapter 3: Director's orders_**

Vance was on the phone when the doors of his office were abruptly opened and Gibbs entered marching in hard steps, holding the arm of his sullen looking agent.  
Buchanan glanced at Vance briefly before Gibbs guided her to the middle of the room, and forced her to sit in one of the chairs before the Director's desk.

"Is this the kind of agent we're taking in now, Leon?" Gibbs growls, staring daggers at the recalcitrant agent who barely looks at him before sitting ramrod straight on the chair, looking fixedly to a point at the desk, mute.

"I'll talk to you later," Vance says to whoever is in the other side and disconnects.

He looks from Buchanan to Gibbs, who is now starting to make a worn path on the floor as he walks nervously in the office, staring daggers to the back of the head of the agent who is unmoving.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Tell me, Leon. What type of agents are you recruiting? And what makes you think that I want someone who is unwilling to do her job when help is clearly needed? I can't have someone so unreliable like that in my team!"

Vance frowns at that, and glances at Buchanan, who just looks at him impassively but does not make any attempt to defend herself of the accusations.

"Explain to me, before I decide take the necessary disciplinary actions that I see fit to the case at hand."

Gibbs then started to explain the scene that has just happened in the bullpen, making Vance sigh internally as he had not expected that to happen so soon. He glances at Joy and he notices that, with the possible exception of the occasional flinch when Gibbs said something particularly hurtful, she doesn't move a muscle.

"So, basically, a detective from one of her old cases at the FBI came to ask her assistance, and -"

"She flat out refused! The man came all the way from God knows where and there's a serial killer on the loose, and she didn't even look at his reports. I expect my agents," Gibbs turns to stare down at the mute agent, who had not said a single word in her defense, "to be able to work as a team, which she obviously doesn't know how!"

Vance leans back on his chair, staring at the accused agent with impenetrable eyes for a moment, studying her as carefully as she was studying his desk.  
"Do you have anything to add to Agent Gibbs' report?"

"No. It was quite accurate."

She answers in a monotone voice, not lifting her eyes from his polished desk.  
"I would like to hear your report, then."

She lifts briefly her gaze from Vance's desk towards the man sitting behind it, and Vance briefly sees the boiling fury that she is trying to keep in check before she shoves it down and consciously closes all the shutters of her mind to him.

"Detective Cole was one of the people involved in a task force assembled eight years ago to solve the circumstances of the mysterious disappearances of six people in Louisiana. It was suspected foul play as their cars were found in different places along the Atchlafalaya Basin Spillway Levee, but no bodies were found. No ramson was requested. Forensics were not conclusive as the cars had been under water between ten days to ten months before they were finally found. Subsequent investigation lead to the arrest of Miss Elizabeth Christine Boyd, 37, who was the owner of a small bed and breakfast on Desonier Road. Apparently, all victims had stopped at her B&B at some point while they were travelling down US 90, either for rest or for lunch, and she decided to kill them. As her B&B was relatively isolated, she kept them under house arrest, tortured and killed them in cold blood in approximately forty eight hours from the moment they were in her power. All evidence of their existence or of their short stay in her establishment she would take to the Levee, which was barely one mile and a half from her hunting place."

"Why did Detective Cole come to request your assistance? Wasn't he aware that you had requested the transfer to NCIS?"

"He was aware, sir." Joy says, grinding her teeth. Vance notices that her tight hold on her emotions is slipping. "He actually has been told that I was dead, as that was the information in my FBI file. But he's bullheaded about seeking the truth of the matters, so he somehow was able to track me down here. He was desperate enough to leave his comfortable environment and come here seeking help."

Joy blinks rapidly as if trying to dispel some image from her mind, before she looks at Vance, "She's escaped. According to Cole, she has already taken some people hostage. It's just a matter of time before the bodies start piling up again."

"What makes you think you could help him track her down again?" Vance asks, testing the waters. He wanted to know how far she would be willing to risk for it, because it would be a difficult bargain to settle with the FBI if he were to let her go to the South.

"The first time, she was arrested thanks to my profile. I know her like no one else does."

Vance glances at Gibbs, who was staring at her with calculating eyes during her report. But Vance could notice that Gibbs was still confused, as he could read the eagerness in Buchanan's voice to help. But he had no idea the reason why she acted the way she had acted.

_I hate politics._

"Agent Buchanan, thanks for your report, you are dismissed."

She stands up to go to the door, just to be stopped by Gibbs' glare as he complains to Vance.

"Just that? Are you just going to let her go with a slap on her wrist?"

"I'd like to talk to you first, Agent Gibbs," says Vance, his gaze going from the senior agent toward the profiler, who was looking at Gibbs with sad eyes.

"She disobeyed direct orders." Gibbs is not willing to let it go that easy, so Vance sighs and glances at Buchanan for a moment. She meets his gaze without flinching and nods walking towards the door.

"No Gibbs, she obeyed her orders. But not yours. Mine."

"What?" He glances at Joy, who is frozen by the door of the office, her hand resting on the handle but not making any move to open it. She stares sightlessly at her hand but doesn't participate in the conversation and also doesn't open the door

"You are under the impression that she follows your orders blindly, but you are mistaken. She won't obey you if you order her to do something that is directly against my standing orders."

"What are you talking about?" Gibbs turns to glare at her, who, once feeling his heated gaze on her back, releases the handle and folds her arms, leaning her back against the door and looking at Gibbs with empty eyes.

"As part of the deal of accepting her in NCIS, it was agreed that she would not participate, investigate or revisit any of her former cases, under any circumstance or in any instance."

"Agreed by whom?" Gibbs is starting to smell something rotten, and meeting Buchanan's gaze he starts to get a brief idea of what's going behind those dark eyes.  
"It was a deal negotiated between me, SecNav and the Director of FBI. The Bureau's choice was to force her to stay out of the field, either by disability or by retirement, regardless of her mental or physical state. They kicked her out, and wanted to keep her down and out of their way for good.

"Once I decided to take her in, they still wanted to meddle in her professional life. In the terms of the deal, she's not allowed even to enter any of the FBI federal buildings, or contact any of her former FBI contacts, with the exception of her own family, without previous authorization by me, under penalty of administrative leave, dismissal and, if re-incident, criminal charges."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment." He takes a step towards Buchanan, who is now staring at her own hands silently. "Why do they hate you so?"

She says something so low that Gibbs doesn't hear.

"Excuse me, I haven't heard you the first time."

"I'm not dead." She says louder this time.

"I beg your pardon?" Now it's Gibbs' turn to check his hearing, as he doesn't believe what he has just heard.

She finally lifts her eyes and looks firmly at Gibbs, showing all her hurt and pain for the banishment imposed by the FBI.

"I'm alive. That's my sin. If I had died with my team, all my sins would have been forgotten. But I didn't. And they've needed a scapegoat. I've refused to be it, to clean the political and public opinion mess that their murders had created, so I became an embarrassment to my peers and the bothersome pebble in several shoes uphill. So they've banished me. Never to return again."

Gibbs' gaze returns to Vance, who silently nods in acceptance with her assessment of the situation. Vance himself couldn't have explained better the ridiculous terms of the agreement he had to accept to take her into NCIS. The FBI director had even had the audacity to suggest that he to keep her on a deskjob doing menial work until she, forced by boredom, decided to retire, but Vance, once he looked at her resume and her file, recognized a top agent right away and refused to play their game.

They wanted to ostracize her, fine, but within NCIS walls he was the voice of command. He chose her assignments and he would not bow to the whim of the Brass of the FBI. But unfortunately, it was inevitable that the past would catch up someday, and her past cases would rear their ugly heads up. And he, the director, could not allow her to offer assistance, despite the desperate need of it.

"So that's all about politics. And even if people are dying, you can't go back and help." Gibbs is astonished at the shortsightedness of the Brass at the Bureau, and finally he notices the sagging shoulders of his profiler, who looks at him with tortured eyes.

"No, under the terms of the agreement, I'm not allowed to initiate contact with any of those involved in the original investigation, nor offer any assistance."


	4. Politics

_**Chapter 4: Politics**_

**_"Politics is the art of postponing decisions until they are no longer relevant."Henri Queuille_**

After their little conversation with Vance, both Buchanan and Gibbs leave the Director's office and walk in sedated steps towards the bullpen.

However, Gibbs's curiosity might have been appeased, his fury is still burning strong in his chest.

Instead of going to the bullpen, he grabs Buchanan's arm and guides her into the elevator, hitting buttons to ensure that the door closes before he starts bellowing to his wayward agent.

Once the doors are shut, he releases her arm roughly and stares down at her, burning her with his steely gaze.

"Don't ever play politics with me again," he finally says through clenched teeth, struggling not to shout at her.

She shakes her head, looking at him sadly.

"It's not your battle to fight, boss."

"LIKE HELL IT ISN'T!". Gibbs punches the elevator wall right beside him, making her jump with the noise, before turning around abruptly, incapable of looking at her without remembering the scene at the director's office

She simply looks at him sadly, "I couldn't tell you."

"How can I trust you if you're the director's lapdog?" He turns around again and glares at her, his cold blue eyes like laser tags on her face.

She shakes her head, answering in a shaking voice, "I'm not. I was just following orders. And it has never interfered with my working as your subordinate."

Gibbs approaches her and hovers over her face, speaking in a very low voice, "What if his orders change? If his next ones go directly against what I'm asking you to do during a case? Who will have your loyalty? Me or him?"

Buchanan looks at his face horrified at the thought of Gibbs, even if just for a moment, doubting her loyalty and her ethics.

"The only way out for me is... if I quit. But I'm not going to that. Because if I quit now, they win. And I'm not going to give them - either of them - the pleasure of seeing me doing what they've planned for me for a long while. Now regarding my loyalty, you are my boss. You've seen my work ethics. I don't have to answer that question."

She walks up to the control panel of the elevator, hitting the button to open the door, "You already have the answer."

The doors hiss open, and she walks out towards the bullpen where the other agents look at her worriedly as she takes her own seat, going back to work on the reports she had been reviewing before being abruptly interrupted by the visit of Detective Cole.

Gibbs arrives a few seconds after her in the bullpen, and glares at Tony, Ziva and McGee, who immediately start working back on their computers, without opening their mouths to ask anything thanks to Gibbs' stormy face.

The team leader sits on his desk, glares in the direction of the profiler typing away her report, before answering the phone which starts ringing on his desk. After a few words exchanged, he stands up, ready to roll.

"GEAR UP, DEAD MARINE."

There is no banter between the agents as they grab their backpacks and slowly and silently file towards the elevators, and the temperature is downright chilly once the doors close after they all board the car going down.


	5. Paradox

**_Chapter 5: Paradox_**

_~ Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong ~ Lao-Tzu_

The drive to the crime scene was the usual way: Gibbs in the Dodge going ahead leaving the four agents to figure out how to organize themselves in the truck. Before McGee even started to fight for the right of seating in the front Buchanan took McGee's hand and lead him into the back of the truck, quietly asking him to jump in so they could have a moment alone.

Ziva and Tony sat in the front, planning to drill the profiler for information. But their plans were frustrated when she, once in the back of the van, simply broke a pencil and stuck it in the rail of the small window, effectively shutting it down so it couldn't be opened from the front.

"Hey, open it up! I want to talk to you guys."

Joy sat dejectedly on the floor of the truck, supporting her back on the cabinets, tapping lightly the floor so McGee could sit beside her.

"I'm not in a talking mood, DiNozzo!" Joy shouted back.

McGee sat beside her and they stayed in silence while Ziva drove the van after Gibbs' Dodge, her maniac driving throwing them to one side or the other but, as they were both sitting on the floor, they weren't jostled as much as if they were sitting on the small bench of the back of the van.

"Wanna talk about it?" McGee's voice was almost a whisper, as he noticed the desolated look on Buchanan's face as she stared at her unpolished nails.

"There's nothing to talk about." Joy's voice was quivering, "They're already dead."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Oh, I can." She turned to him, showing all her hurt on her face. "We were never able to retrieve any living victims from Lizzie. We were never even able to find their bodies. We just knew that they were dead."

"How?"

"She kept..." Joy closed her eyes as her mind was assaulted by horrid images, "She kept their heads in glass jars, perfectly preserved in her basement. We found twelve heads, but we were investigating eight missing people reports. We have never been able to identify who the other four were." She sighed, leaning her head so she could rest it on McGee's shoulder. He put an arm over her shoulders, feeling her talking against his chest. "We never found all their pieces."

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

They arrive at the crime scene, which was like any other before. Gibbs barked his orders, which the agents scurried around to fulfill them. However, Ducky noticed the glares Gibbs occasionally would throw towards his profiler, who would simply flinch and step away from the team leader.

After the third harsh cut Gibbs sent to his agent, she simply stared at him with inscrutable eyes for a whole minute, before giving her camera to McGee and going back to the truck, literally walking away from the crime scene.

McGee just looked disappointed at Gibbs before going to another spot to document the scene, while Tony and Ziva just lowered their heads and kept doing their jobs.

"Jethro, a moment of your time, please."

"Not now, Ducky, we have to..."

"Now, Jethro. Please follow me," Ducky gave a nod to Palmer, who had noticed the strange tension between the agents but had thought it would be better not to say anything about it.

"Why exactly Gibbs is angry at Buchanan?" Ziva asked out of the blue, just to receive a glare from Tony.

"Receiving a request of help and denying it is very serious in Gibbs' book." Tony glanced to where Ducky was talking in hushed tones to Gibbs, obviously angry.

"Is it one of the rules? I've never heard of that rule." Ziva looked confused at Tony, who glances to the direction where Buchanan went.

"It's one of the unwritten rules, Ziverrrr."

Meanwhile, Ducky was giving Gibbs an earful for his treatment of his team mate.

"What is wrong with you, Jethro? Is it really necessary to be so harsh with your agent, who is obviously not herself today?"

"Ducky, you don't know..."

"Then tell me what sin she has committed that gave you the right to belittle her so grievously that would reduce her to tears. Yes, tears, as I saw her eyes when she turned and left. Please, enlighten me."

"I've found out about a deal she cut with the Director..."

"And that's your reason to treat her like trash?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes and glanced in the direction of the truck, where he knew the younger agent was. His phone started ringing and he immediately answered when he saw the ID.

"Gibbs, finish processing the scene and return immediately to NCIS."

"Why, Leon?"

"Don't question me. I've spent the last three hours on the phone and my patience is very limited right now. Return immediately."

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

After processing the scene they ride the elevator back into the bullpen and there is still a chilly atmosphere between the agents. Buchanan was stubbornly ignoring Gibbs, who was doing his best to glare at the profiler's back. The silence in the elevator was heavy and they all sighed relived when the doors opened in the bullpen floor.

However all of them froze before stepping out of the elevator when they found Director Leon Vance standing right outside the door, as if waiting to jump in an unwary prey.

"Leon."

"Gibbs," Vance said in salutation and immediately glanced at Buchanan, who was frozen looking at him warily. "Give Gibbs your things on this case and pack your bags. You have a go."

His words spurred her in action, as she ran out of the elevator towards her desk and immediately started dialing on her cell phone. Vance followed her in a more sedate pace, with Gibbs and the team following behind "You are to go to Louisiana and join the task force to apprehend the escapee Elizabeth Boyd. Until she is under custody you will be on loan to the FBI, working with the local office to apprehend the suspect."

"What about her banishment?" asked Gibbs, glancing at Joy packing her stuff in a hurry.

"Temporarily lifted until the end of this case. All will be the same once it's over."

"What banishment?" McGee looked at Joy nervously before turning to Gibbs, who shook his head, indicating that now wasn't the time or the place.

Joy chuckled as she stuffed her laptop and the cables in her backpack, "I really don't wanna know whose ass you had to kiss to get me into that investigation."

"Good, 'cause I'm not gonna tell you." Vance shook his head, observing his profiler, "But after some pushing and shoving, it wasn't my intervention that tipped the scales."

Joy frowned as she heard that, glancing nervously at Gibbs before turning to the director, silently asking him to explain himself.

"The FBI Brass was quite insistent in keeping you out of the case, but they had to relent half an hour ago when they had their hand forced by someone much stronger than them."

Vance took one second to prepare before dropped his bomb, noticing how the agent slowly became pale with the news. "Senator Gordon S. Meland's niece is missing and all evidence points that Boyd has her. Once the suspicion was raised he immediately contacted the task force and when he was informed that the profiler who solved the case in the first place was being kept out of the investigation due to internal power squabbles, he overrode them and ordered you to be part of the investigation."

"And as Senator Meland is part of the Defense Budget committee in the Congress..." Joy completed shaking her head just to receive the confirmation from Vance.

"Checkmate."

"So it's all about politics again," said Gibbs, noticing the shaking shoulders of his profiler, whose face was hidden by her hair as she stared at the floor frozen on her spot.

"Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just a player in this game." To Buchanan, Vance said before he started to walk towards the stairs, "Your plane leaves in half an hour."

"You do know what you are doing, don't you?" Joy finally asked, lifting her head and staring at Vance, who stopped and glared at his agent.

"Are you questioning my actions? I've spent half of the afternoon on the phone trying to get you back onto the case which is what you've wanted in the first place and now you are questioning my actions?"

Joy shook her head, sighing loudly "I'm not questioning your actions. I'm questioning your motivation." She left her backpack fall on the floor, before taking a step towards Vance, her voice quivering with anger, "Because you know exactly what's going to happen when I get there."

Vance turned around and approached Joy, glaring at her with his full Director's pose, "Yes, I do. You will do your job, offer your assistance until the killer is arrested and in custody. Case closed. You get some local celebrity status, save the Governor's niece and everything is good again in the world."

"That's not how it works, Director."

"Really, so how does it work, Agent Buchanan. Clarify it for me."

"She's already dead." Joy said, eliciting surprised looks from Tony, Ziva and McGee, who were all watching the discussion like people in a tennis court. "She's been dead from the moment Liz kidnapped her."

"You have no way of knowing that."

"Oh... I have. You see, it took a team of three profilers three weeks of hardcore investigation in order to identify Liz and arrest her and still we lost eight victims. At least, those were the ones we were aware of. The body count wasn't ever... officially closed. When I get there, they will crucify me on the altar of their ignorance, expecting false promises of a happy ending which I won't be able to give them. And when your precious governor's niece is found dead - if she is ever found - they will blame it on the out of town cop who didn't do her job well."

"But you've worked with them before. You know that's the way things are." Vance tried to argue, but Joy shook her head, remembering how it was working with the people down South.

"They literally _hate_ my guts there. And you're sending me alone, throwing me to the wolves. It's one thing to face a precinct full of chauvinistic pigs when you have the backup of a team; it's another to walk into it on your own. I won't last a day."

"You're not being reasonable."

"Not reasonable? Not reasonable? She murdered a federal agent in cold blood." By now, Joy's voice was just a whisper, as she remembered the nightmare that the Boyd's case was eight years before. "She cut him into pieces using a meat ax and dispatched his body parts to the agents involved in the investigation. I've received the upper part of his thigh. Still, we've never recovered all parts in order to give him a proper burial. Don't ask me to be reasonable about that."

Vance shook his head, uncaring of the passionate speech given by the agent, "The deal is sealed. You're going alone. Time is wasting."

"She has a team," said Gibbs, surprising Buchanan who glanced at him before looking at Vance, who studied Gibbs with a frown.

"Agent Gibbs, I won't reassign MCRT in order to clean up a mess the Bureau has created."

"She's part of my team, Vance. She's right. Either send all of us or you're not sending any of us. Regardless of the deals you might have cut with the FBI."

Vance glared at Gibbs at the others: Tony just folded his eyes waiting for Vance's verdict; Ziva grabbed her backpack and put one strap on her shoulder, ready to go and McGee just looked at Gibbs, waiting for any sign from the team leader.

Vance looked back at Buchanan, who was looking at Gibbs with relief. Finally he gave in, "Give your findings of your case to Balboa, I'll redo your transport arrangements."

"Don't bother," Joy said as she opened her vibrating cell phone, "Faith, we're ready to roll. Be ready in five."

She approached Gibbs, looking at him with newfound respect in her eyes, "There's a fuelled jet ready waiting for us."

"I won't pay for that." Vance was ready to start arguing, but Joy lifted a hand to calm him down.

"No need, we'll use one of the Bureau jets. I've called my sister - she's a section chief in the Bureau and they've got their own transport - and requested her to have it ready as soon as I heard about this case." She approached the Director, "In cases like this, I don't fly economic."


	6. Airplanes and ghosts

**_Chapter 6: Airplanes and ghosts_**

They reached the landing strip and found one of the Bureau Lear Jets being prepped to take off. They left the car to get their go bags which they packed in haste, just waiting for the jet to stop in position so they could hop in.

"Oh, Boss, why don't we have one of these?" Tony could barely contain his enthusiasm at the chance of flying in a jet.

"Would you like it if the Director took from your pay the money for fuel, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked with a smirk on his face, which wiped Tony's smile in seconds.

He took the opportunity to glance towards McGee and Buchanan and what he saw worried him. The young woman was staring at the jet with tears in her eyes, her gaze lost in some image that only she could see.

"Buchanan?"

She blinked trying to dispel the tears, glancing at Gibbs with sad eyes for a long minute, before replying "That's the LA BAU's plane, Boss. Once... ahh... after the team died, Faith put down a request to have the plane assigned to her division, just so she could keep an eye on it and because her division really needed one. It seemed unjust to let anyone else have it."

She glances at Tony, "It's just a work tool, nothing more, Tony. Bigger and more expensive than the NCIS issued Dodge Chargers, but still, it's just a work tool."

Having said that, she starts walking towards the lowering door of the jet and she grinned when she saw the person coming down the stairs, "What a pleasant surprise, Max."

The old black man in pilot's uniform smiled brightly at her, showing perfect white teeth which made a sharp contrast against his dark lips.

"It's good to see you again, Miss Joy. Everything is as you requested," Max, the Bureau pilot since Joy's time at the BAU, offered his hand to help her up the steps. He did the same to the others until all of them were comfortably inside.

Once inside Joy immediately went to the seats flanking the table, where a top of the line laptop and several boxes with evidence were piled up.

The agents entered the jet and start putting their carry on bags on the sofas, and Joy handed out the folders of the cases for each as they sat, "This is the first profile from when we arrested Lizzie Boyd the first time around. Just take a look at it while we takeoff, if you have any doubts, ask me."

Joy sat in one of comfortable seats with a folder in her hands and fastened her seatbelt and the others followed her cue as the airplane started moving towards the tarmac.

McGee sat beside her and noticed how she seemed to zone out, staring fixatedly at an empty seat in the back of the airplane.

"Buchanan?"

She didn't move a muscle, not acknowledging his call. Tony and Ziva sat side by side, looking at each other before glancing at the profiler again, who is not even aware she is crying silently.

Gibbs sat in the chair facing Joy, noticing how she doesn't take note of him in front of her, "Buchanan."

This time she turned tearfilled eyes to him, "There are too many ghosts in here." She closed her eyes, leaning back as the plane engines start roaring louder. "Too many ghosts."

Nobody dared to make any comment, preferring instead to open their files as the plane reached the assigned tarmac waiting for the okay to take off.

Just four minutes later, they felt the vibration of the engines going full charge and the jet speeding down the tarmac towards the heavens.

Next stop, Lafayette, Louisiana.


	7. Definition of evil

_**Chapter 7: Definition of evil**_

_Lizzie Borden took an axe  
And gave her mother forty whacks.  
When she saw what she had done  
She gave her father forty-one._

Once safely in the air, the team took a few minutes to study their files in silence.

"Hey, this is an ax-murderer case?"

Tony's question broke the silence and everyone looked at him who pointed to the reports in his hand. He started reading out loud one of the paragraphs who caught his attention.

"In subsequent interrogations done during the prosecution phase, Elizabeth Boyd, known as Lizzie Boyd by her acquaintances in little Franklin, Louisiana, admitted to have killed and desecrated the bodies of eight people who happened to stop by her bed and breakfast in a period of two years. She informed that she used different knives but her favorite was a meat ax which her father gave her when she was just fifteen."

He lifted surprised eyes, staring at Buchanan as she started her tale. "Her father was a dedicated hunter and the lack of male heirs made him to transfer his desire of teaching the manly arts to his daughter." She took a picture of a mid thirties woman, in a blue dress and corn blond hair and showed to the team. "At twelve, she was an expert marksman... woman and by fifteen she had already killed an alligator just with her knives."

"Ninja killer," muttered Tony, his eyes going back to the reports.

"Here says you were part of the task force who arrested her and you also gave your statement during her prosecution." says Ziva, studying the files in her hand.

"Yes, the profile up until then had been unable to nail her down as we didn't have all the necessary info for it. Her victimology was too widespread; she killed black, white, young old, quite democratic on her picking out. So we changed approach and instead of profiling the victims, we made a geographical profile."

Gibbs eyebrows went up, clearly indicating he had no idea what the agent was talking about. McGee, once he noticed that, explained, "They profiled the possible places where she would dump the cars and the victims' belongings. "

Joy nodded, thankful for McGee's explanation, "We set up stake outs and three days later she was arrested with the belongings of her latest victim in her hands."

"She acted like a spider. All she had to do was sit on her B&B and wait for the victims to come knocking on her door. If the circumstances were right and if her psychosis decided to rear its ugly head, she would drug her intended victims and simply move them to a more isolated cottage in the back of the property, where she had all the privacy she needed to do what she wanted to do."

"What do you mean by if the circumstances were right?" Gibbs asked, closing his file and looking at his profiler, who leaned back on her seat before explaining.

"She is what we call an omnivore. She will hunt and kill anyone or everyone in her path, just to satisfy her bloodlust. The only thing between life and death in her mind is a very faint feeling of control over the situation. In her trial, when questioned about her motives to kill these people she told the D.A. that he was asking the wrong question. What was important wasn't the reason why she killed. It was the reason why she chose not to kill the others. Her B&B was out of the highway but it was well known locally thanks to the quality of the hearty breakfast she offered every day in there."

"According to these files," McGee said reading from one of the reports, "there was an average of fifteen to twenty people who showed up every morning for Lizzie's breakfasts, yet she only had twelve victims."

"That we were aware of. We always suspected she had more victims, but we never had enough proof of it."

"Why did she do it then?"

"Power. She said that deciding who would die or who would live made her feel like God."

"Wacko." Tony shook his head as he looked looking at the crime scene photos. "I'm excited about this case. This is my first ever ax murderer."

"Tony, you are... excited about this case?" Ziva's voice showed skepticism, while she glanced briefly at Joy who was staring at Tony with inscrutable eyes.

"Yeah, it's an opportunity to learn about these..." he pointed to the folder in his hand "crazy people, learn what makes them thick."

Joy looked at him for a long time, her disappointment being quite clear on her face as she decided to talk, "This is not a walk in a park or training session, Tony. She's a psychopath who murdered twelve people and God knows how many others we weren't able to link to her. She picked her victims randomly from her usual stream of guests in her B&B, drugging them in their morning tea or coffee, before dragging their unresisting bodies in between the bed sheets she shoved into laundry carts. She admitted to keeping them drugged but aware when she used her hunting knives on them, slowly separating tendons from bone. She kept them alive until she decided to chop off their heads with a meat ax, finally ending their misery. She was nicknamed the '_Lizzie Borden' _of Louisiana, due to the gravity of her crimes and also her weapon of choice for the murders. Despite her gruesome description of the murders, we were never able to find their bodies, as she disposed of them and later on gloated about our inability to find them."

"When our investigation pointed her out to us, she kidnapped one of the agents of the task force and …" Joy's voice faltered and Gibbs could see she was visibly trying to gather her wits to continue her exposition on the case, "she did the same thing to him, but instead of hiding his body with the others she dispatched his body parts to us. So please, don't get excited about the killer as she doesn't deserve your admiration or your pity." She stands up and leaves going to the back of the plane, leaving an open mouthed Tony staring at her back.

"What did I do?"

Gibbs glares at him before putting his folder on the side, standing up and following his wayward agent, who was filling a glass with water on the small bar on the back of the plane. He glanced at her hand and noticed the faint shaking she could not control.

"Are you going to reprimand me again?" She asked, almost belligerently, without lifting her eyes from the water glass.

"Nope," he stayed silent until she acceded and looked at him, her eyes showing all her hurt. "I just want to remind you of rule number ten."

"And what would that be?"

_"Never get personally involved on a case."_

She grimaced and looked down to her water glass again, "I'm not wired like that, Boss. In profiling... if... " She lifted her eyes, staring into his blue ones firmly. "If you quit caring about the people in the case, about the victims... there's the very real possibility that you become like the monsters you're hunting. As long as it hurts it means you're still human. If you can't feel their pain anymore... it's time to quit the job."

Gibbs studied her silently for a moment, watching her slowly calming down. He noticed her frowning lightly before looking chagrined at him.

"When we get there, if you want to take over dealing with the locals, I'm totally fine with it." She offered, smiling lightly, "It would free me up to focus on the profile and I'm quite sure that you would fit right in between that bunch of alpha males in there."

"Rule number thirty eight." Gibbs said grinning, leaning against the wall of the airplane. He notices her attempting to remember what the rule says.

"_There's no such thing as coincidence_?" she tries, just to have Gibbs shaking his head.

"No, that's rule thirty nine. Rule thirty eight is _'your case, your lead.'_"

"Great," she muttered, her pouting making Gibbs snicker lightly.

"What should we expect when we arrive there?"

"Resistance from the local PD and belligerence from the local FBI. They took it very hard when SSA Molina was murdered, especially because Lizzie arranged for the body parts to be delivered after we had her in custody. It almost debunked the profile as it raised the possibility of her having an accomplice."

"But she didn't have one." Gibbs waited until Joy finished her water to respond his question.

"No, she simply used a local schedule-yourself-delivery service and just waited for the fireworks to start."

While they were talking, McGee silently walked towards the two agents and was standing behind Gibbs. He looked worriedly at Buchanan who nodded, trying to transmit him the message that all was well.

The three agents silently agree to return to their seats, going back to reviewing the reports. Tony cleared his throat calling everyone's attention to himself. Ziva poked him lightly on his ribs and he looked at her cross, before closing his folder and looking at Joy.

"I'm... I wasn't cheering on the killer. It was a bad choice of words."

"Yes, it was." Joy closed the folder and put it over her lap, looking at Tony very serious. "I'm aware of your coping mechanisms, Tony. That you use humor to hide your feelings but this is not a joke or a game. Working with you guys..." She briefly glances at Gibbs and Ziva, before glancing at McGee and continuing. "It made me realize how sick the unsubs were while I was working with BAU."

She looked at Gibbs, biting her lower lip. "I can get the eventual murder, the crimes of passion, hate and greed that we see in NCIS. In most of our cases the motives are petty, then in some we have the political motivation behind it, but it's really rare that we find someone really... evil."

Ziva shivered and rubbed her arms, as if a cold wind had blown inside of the airplane bringing a chill in the air.

"Evil is a very strong word to describe these crimes."

"But it's the only one that fits, Ziva." Joy sat back and looked at the Israeli, "When you were in Mossad, the killings you witnessed were motivated by hatred and division, something that you could not control as they had started thousand of years before you were even born and that still rules over the actions of your people and their people. Yet when you get a case like this," Joy gets a picture of a head of a young woman in a jar, floating in a yellow liquid and shows it to Ziva. "This is cruelty for cruelty's sake. There's no agenda. There are no excuses. Just the desire to inflict the maximum amount of pain onto another human being. And that's the definition of evil for me."


	8. What if I stumble?

_**Chapter 8: What if I stumble?**_

The agents settled down for the next twenty minutes, carefully reviewing the files, asking here and there the details of the murders. According to Lizzie's detailed statement on her trial, she would first drug her victims during breakfast on her B&B. Once the movement of the morning was gone she would move them to a more private barn in the back of her property, specially prepared for her activities. There she would slowly cut into their skin, slicing their flesh with painstaking precision. When they were almost in hypovolemic shock, she would stab them in the heart before getting her favorite meat ax, the one she used on her game hunting, and would chop their heads off.

Then she would gently put the heads in conserve oil and in nice glass jars in her collection in the basement, before disposing the bodies and all private stuff of the victims. Their personal effects were found in the levee. The bodies were never found in the course of their investigation.

After being grilled for minutes, Joy simply stood up and went to the small bar, trying to calm her thoughts while grabbing a soda for herself and a cup of coffee for McGee. She came back from the bar and sat at the small table beside McGee who was reviewing the reports on the last victim. She sighed and closed her eyes, catching his attention as she kept breathing deeply, trying to focus herself.

"How bad will it be when we get there?"

She turned to look him into his eyes and he could clearly see the terror in her eyes of having to take on this task, but also her tenacity of getting the job done.

"I won't sleep; I won't eat; I won't rest until we have her behind bars or dead. I'll be twenty four seven profiling, inside her head. The Joy you know will take a step back and there will be only _her_. _Her_ mind, _her_ thoughts, _her_ acts."

He frowned at hearing those words. "That can't be healthy."

"It isn't. But I'm the only one from the team who knows her inside out, so I have to do that."

"What can I do to help?" He whispered, looking into her eyes.

"If I stumble, don't let me fall."

A hot tear escaped from her eyes, leaving a silver track over her cheek, and he lifted one of his hands to wipe it away.

"I can do that."

McGee ached to take her into his arms and squeeze her against his chest, offering support and comfort, but he knew he couldn't, not with Gibbs, Tony and Ziva just a few feet away.

Gibbs walked towards them and sat right in front of the two agents at the other side of the table. He studied the tenseness on McGee's shoulders and how he was leaning towards Joy, not touching. Joy was simply staring at the table, the very picture of misery.

"Hey, are you up to it?"

"I have no choice. I have to do it." She muttered, without lifting her eyes from the table.

"There's always a choice."

"Not in my case." She looked up and he sees her silently gathering her strength again, her tears drying as if they've never were. "This is my calling. My task. It's my gift and at the same time my curse. That's what I'm meant to do. And I'll do it to the best of my abilities, and finish this task."

"Whatever it takes? Even if it costs your sanity?"

She stayed in silence and didnot answer him. He leaned over the table of the jet and touched her hand lightly, calling her attention to him, "We can't follow you inside her head, but we can stop you from getting lost in there. If I notice that you're slipping, you're out of this case and in a plane back to DC so fast that you will be dizzy."

"Boss."

"That's an order."

The pilot's voice came out, announcing their upcoming landing. There was a fury of activity as they packed all the reports back on the boxes and went to their seats, getting ready for the landing.

"Hey Buchanan, are we going to eat cajun food?" Tony fiddled with his seatbelt, glancing at the profiler who smiled briefly back at him.

"Sure, I'll ask Detective Cole to take you to his favorite restaurant. I've heard they serve alligator meat in there."

"Really, is that any good?" McGee asks, just to be surprised by Gibbs.

"It tastes like chicken."

Gibbs grinned at the surprised looks of his agents, who were all staring at him as if he had sprouted a new head.


	9. Warm welcome to Louisiana

a/n: Hello folks, now we're going to have some fun. All colloquialisms or purposedly written things in a wrong spelling will be in italics. If by any chance any word or expression is beyond your understanding, please check the very informative website :

_My Favorite Southern Expressions by Kendall from Louisiana_

* * *

**_Chapter 9: Warm welcome to Louisiana_**

The Lear jet softly landed on the tarmac of Acadiana Regional Airport and the agents were greeted by two uniformed men standing by huge police pickup truck, typical muscle car that could be found in that region filled with swamps and water sodden streets.

"So you guys the folks from DC?" The tall red faced man with a badge identifying him as Deputy Clark asked as a matter of introduction. "I ain't believed you were coming."

Gibbs smirked ironically at the man, towering over him a good few inches, "Glad we're still able to surprise people. Who is the man in charge?"

"Detective Bill Rowlings, he's at our main office. I've been ordered to bring you to him." Clark took a handkerchief and started wiping the sweat from his chin and neck, as the temperatures were a balmy 79F. Tony and McGee were already starting to sweat while Gibbs in no moment showed his discomfort.

The other man measured up each of the agents before his gaze skimmed on Ziva before finally landing on Buchanan, who bore his examination quietly. The man's face changed to a malicious smile, before turning to Clark. "Is this the muffin they were talking about at the precinct?"

McGee glared at the two snickering men, who studied them as if they had been measured and found lacking in the locals' opinion.

_"Is it just y'all or are all y'all goin'?"_

Before the confused looks received from the team, Deputy Clark pointed to the truck and said, "Throw your things in the booth, ladies, we're going for a ride."

Gibbs' glare at their backs was enough to melt the ice caps on the arctic, but it went unnoticed by the two men who opened the doors of the truck for them to hop in.

Joy glanced to Ziva who was squinting at them with a very dangerous glint in her eyes and whispered in Hebrew.

_"Do you have your knives with you?"_

_"Always, why?"_

_"You might need them for teaching some boys a lesson."_

_"Rather sooner than later, uhm?"_

Both women smiled at each other, earning an unnerved glance from Tony who couldn't understand a word they were speaking.

"Hey, no whispering during the class, girls." He teased them, just to receive a glare from Gibbs.

"Get in, DiNozzo," Gibbs pointed to the backseat of the pickup, where they would have to squeeze two women and three men at the backseat while Gibbs sat with the other deputy in the front.

In the end, Tony had Ziva on his lap, Joy was on Tim's and Deputy Snarky was being squeezed against the door.

Deputy Clark hopped on the driver's seat and glanced with a small smirk to the backseat where everyone was crushed against each other, then to Gibbs who was looking at him with squinting eyes.

"Welcome to Louisiana, folks."

Tony moaned as Ziva moved, hitting her elbow on his ribcage, while Joy and McGee fumbled trying to find a more comfortable position.

"You okay, Tony?"

"Yeah," he gasped, "I've just forgotten how to breathe."

Joy smiled lightly, looking at Gibbs in the front seat. "I'm starting to remember why I _loved_ this place."


	10. The bee's knees and the pecking order

**_Chapter 10: The bee's knees and the pecking order_**

The drive was short, full of stops and sudden accelerations, which would bring moans and hisses from the backseat. Deputy Clark would just smirk lightly and glance at Gibbs with eyebrows raised, just waiting for him to comment on his driving style.

But Gibbs kept quiet, just studying him back, so Deputy Clark simply drove like a maniac, to the despair of those squeezed in the backseat.

Finally they arrived at the main PD and when the door was opened they literally spilled out of the car, not very graciously.

"Ziver, I think it's time for you to admit that you need to lose some weight." Tony said stretching his legs which were almost dormant thanks to their hellish trip towards the precinct.

Ziva glared at him with burning eyes, while McGee and Joy took a step back, both gulping and mentally getting prepared for the bloodshed. A wise man never - ever - comments on a woman's weight and expects to live to fight another day.

Especially one capable of killing you twenty eight ways with a paperclip.

"Really, Tony? But it was so cozy to sit on your lap. It was so well... padded." Ziva said between clenching teeth.

Tony, finally aware of his faux pas, looked at Ziva scared as she slowly approached him, stalking him as a predator circles weaker prey, forcing him to backup until he had his back glued to the side of the car.

"I think that these" she poked Tony lightly on his stomach, "muscles are not very hard to be considered a proper six-pack, are they?"

"Ah, but I … I..."

"Are you freaking serious?" Detective Snarky glared at us, before walking in hard steps towards the door of the precinct, a historical home in traditional southern style which once - a long time ago, in a galaxy so far away - had been white, but now was covered with green ivy all over the front.

"That's what you get when you get these_ Grand Beedes_ from up north."

Gibbs started following both Deputies into the precinct, not without throwing a withering glare to his younger agents who soon sobered up, grabbed their gear and go bags and followed in a more sedate pace.

"Oh, any idea what does _Grand Beede_ stand for?" McGee asked as soon as he was in hearing distance from Joy.

"Believe me, you don't wanna know." Joy muttered.

The agents entered an ample area which had light beige walls, with the usual busy murmuring of a precinct in full activity. The two deputies approached a tall broad chested man, whose badge hanging from his belt loudly proclaimed him as the sheriff and the lord of the manor. Their entry was noticed by most of the deputies, who glared with resentment at the newcomers.

They had a serial killer on the run in their hands and having Feds in their territory was the ultimate insult for them, especially considering how bad things had turned out the last time.

The tall man studied the newcomers, his eyes squinting when they stopped at Joy before gliding back to Gibbs, who was measuring him up the same careful way he was being watched. The guy smiled a crooked fake smile and stretched his hand, "I'm Detective Bill Rowlings, chief of the task force responsible for the hunt for Lizzie Boyd."

"I'm Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs from NCIS."

Detective Rowlings smiled a reptilian smile and squeezed firmly the hand in his reach, but he was surprised for the equal pressure he received from the cold eyed agent studying him. Finally after both were satisfied by the little force demonstration, both let go and took a step back, making a clear separation between the fields.

"Navy cops. I have to admit that I'm surprised you've even bothered to come. You're not needed here. My men are more than enough to catch that ..."

_"You couldn't be later if you were the prom queen in June!"_ A strong voice echoed from the back, making all agents turn around to look at a familiar figure approaching in hurried steps the agents.

The tall wiry man in weathered down clothes and polished boots hurried between the desks, his hat nervously going from one hand to the other. His appearance brought a little smile to Buchanan's face and a scowl to Rowling's, whose skin became red with anger at each step those alligator clad boots made.

_"Who's pluckin' this chicken, me or you, Cole? Man, this ain't my first rodeo!_ You had no right to plunder your way over me."

_"Your bucket's leakin' water,_ Bill. You've lost another _chit_ and you ain't got a clue on where she might be. We need the little _Shugah_ here."

Cole approached the agents, saluting each with a small movement of his head, before stopping before Buchanan and showing a small smile, as big as his weathered face could give.

"Well, if it _ain't little miss muffin._" He said, receiving a smile as his answer.

"It's good to see you too, Detective Cole."

"What these Navy Cops can do that we can't? We've already put roadblocks in all roads and highways from here all the way to the Town. All our men are on the road in alert ready to catch this vielle fille and we ain't gonna stop until we do it." Rowlings complained, glaring at the fidgeting agents and their leader.

"We're not here to stop or hinder your investigation in anyway." Gibbs said, taking a step further and looking down to the red faced man, who glared at him with anger in his eyes.

"We're here to offer assistance to the best of our abilities and ensure that this maniac is put away for good. One of our team members was essential to her capture the first time around and we're here as her backup. So now, where can we set up shop?"

Tony, Ziva and McGee looked surprised at Gibbs, as that was the longest speech he gave to another police officer - hell, another person - in a long time.

Joy simply did her best to hold back her smile, but she was deep down enjoying the marine giving hell to the pompous ass of detective.

After a long staring contest, Rowlings moved his head, pointing to a room down in the back of the precinct, which was empty and had only a whiteboard in it.

Joy glanced at Cole before grabbing one of the go bags, touching McGee's arm to make him move to their assigned room.

"Now that you are officially introduced to each other, are you going to start comparing your private bits too?" Gibbs and Rowlings glared at Joy, who simply smirked at both older men and continued. "Because if you are, Rowlings, I assure you that _my Boss will win._"

McGee blushed five shades of red while Ziva and Tony only looked open mouthed at Joy, who simply smiled saucily before walking towards their assigned room. They were surprised when a rolling laughter exploded at their side, making everyone look at Cole who was laughing a full belly laugh as he held the hand with the hat against his chest.

"Oh my,_ if that ain't just the bee's knees!"_

The agents looked from Cole to Joy, who had a smirk on her face before disappearing in the room.

"What does the_ bee's knees_ have to do with it?" Ziva asked confused, receiving equally confused glances from Tony and McGee before they followed Joy into the room.

Rowlings glared at them and muttered angrily, walking away towards his own room and letting them work on their own. Cole and Gibbs entered the room, looking around the place they were supposed to set up.

Cole was still chuckling as he glanced at Joy, who had a placid smile on her face as she took her laptop out of her backpack and started getting files out of boxes.

"What was that about?" Gibbs asked, standing beside Buchanan who just glanced at him before unpacking another folder from their evidence box.

"We're in a man's little club in their own territory, Boss. Testosterone flows so strongly here that we could swim in it. I was just establishing the pecking order."

Gibbs just glared at her while Cole could barely contain his mirth.

"And how did you know your..." Cole pointed to Gibbs and exploded into another bout of laughter at the aggrieved glare he received from the gray haired marine.

She sat down and smiled brightly at Gibbs, "I'm just following the empirical evidence, Boss."

"What?" McGee, if he could, would have blown a gasket. He stared at Joy who kept smirking.

"He was married four times. Divorced three. That's enough evidence."

Tony and Ziva sat down at the desk and started sorting out their files, at the same time they looked at the smiling profiler.

"How? Wouldn't that be only evidence that he's a lousy husband?" As soon as the words left Tony's mouth he looked frightened to Gibbs, who almost growled at him. "Not that you were a lousy husband, Boss... I mean... ah..."

"Tony!" Ziva hissed, before looking at Joy who was barely containing her laughter. "I still don't understand."

"Ah come on!" She looked at Ziva, shaking her head. "Those three who walked away must have found something fascinating about him..." She glanced at Gibbs who was still fuming, "... and it wasn't his _charming_ personality."

Ziva gasped as she figured out what Joy was talking about, looking at Gibbs with new eyes. He noticed it and barked at her, "Mind out of the gutter, Ziver."

They settled down to check their files, but the atmosphere was definitely lighter than before their flight to the south.


End file.
